


A Roof to Keep Out the Rain

by lovetvfan



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetvfan/pseuds/lovetvfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin Wood shows Faith his old home in Brooklyn, in an attempt to convince Faith to trust him and move beyond her old scars. A one shot in which Faith learns how to reach out to someone.</p><p>Not mine, don't sue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Roof to Keep Out the Rain

The house didn't look like much. In fact, it looked like a dump. It didn't help that it was in a less than reputable part of town either. Looking around, the young dark haired slayer tried not to grimace as she took in the sight of the broken screen door and the peeling paint on the siding. It wasn't much to her, but to the man standing beside her it had been home and that was one home more than she had ever had.

"I know," he was saying, "that it's not the nicest place in the world, but it was where I grew up. After mom died I was raised here by her watcher. He couldn't bear to sell it, even after we moved to Beverly Hills. I haven't been back here in a long time."

Robin Wood, former principal of Sunnydale High school and the son of the late slayer Nikki, opened the door of the tiny home in Brooklyn, New York and stepped inside. The slayer at his side followed somewhat hesitantly.

It wasn't what she had expected. From the look of the outside she had expected to see something worse on the inside. The neighbourhood wasn't great and in her experience bad neighbourhoods generally meant poverty and broken homes. She had lived in a lot of places in her life and in some cases on the street and not one of them had ever been warm or cozy in even the slightest sense. Her earliest memories up until leaving were of stained furniture, angry voices, broken beer bottles and abusive boyfriends.

This place was the exact opposite. It was clear that it hadn't been lived in for years, but despite that, the remnants of a relatively safe and happy childhood were everywhere. Robin began to pull the white sheets off the couch and arm chair, revealing worn, but cozy looking furniture with a peach coloured flower pattern. She smiled.

"Faith?" Robin turned to her and gave her a quizzical look. She rarely smiled and when she did it was a real treat for him. He had hoped that their spending almost all their time together would help her to learn to trust him, but so far she had remained aloof, trusting as far as her scarred psyche would allow but always walled off where it counted the most. He had planned this trip home to Brooklyn to try to break down that wall, to show her his old home. He wanted her to see his past, to see he had nothing to hide. He wanted her to know all of him, the good and the bad. He hoped that one day she would reciprocate.

He knew from the sketchy details she had provided that her home life and childhood had been less than ideal. He didn't necessarily want to know all the gory details, but he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to know that he trusted her. He knew that not many did and he was desperate to change that, to show her she could be trusted…redeemed. He knew what she did. He didn't care. He knew she was a good person, but she didn't seem to believe that, and nothing he had said to her so far had been able to convince her differently.

She was still staring around the house, fascinated it seemed by every little detail about the place. She hadn't even heard him say her name.

It was him. It was him all over. Every inch of this house seemed to throb with Robin's personality and those who had cared for him, even after his long absence. It made her ache to see such loving personality inscribed in a home. She had never had any of this. From the peach flower furniture, to the picture of the Queen above the couch (likely a touch added by his watcher guardian), to the doilies on the Formica end table and the orange shag carpeting, the place was a mishmash of all things near and dear to Robin Wood. Faith was mesmerized by it. And jealous. More jealous than she had ever been in her entire life.

"I never had this," she finally whispered. Her throat felt constricted and she fought to hide the rush of emotion that surged through her.

Robin watched her intently and wanted to take a step towards her, but the way she crossed her arms around her chest told him not to. She wasn't ready. She was too raw.

"I know." It was all he could think to say. Suddenly he wondered if this had been the right thing to do. To take her to a place that had held so many welcome memories would only remind her that she had none. How could he have been so stupid? "Look Faith, I…"

"It's nice." She finally said, shaking her head and turning to him. The haunted look in her eyes was gone for the moment, back to whatever place she hid her pain. "I like the carpets. Retro."

"They are that," he said with a chuckle. She decided she liked his laugh. It was a deep, rich baritone that made her shiver, though she would never tell him that. She found herself smiling back at him and allowed him to lead her into the other areas of the house for the full tour.

The rest of the place was very much like the living room. It was a mixture of seventies retro, urban principal and stuffy British watcher.

Faith found herself sitting on Robin's couch after the tour feeling more relaxed than she had in a good long while. She couldn't help it. This house just invited her to drop her walls, and she was tired of fighting herself. Her legs curled underneath her, she watched Robin speculatively while he drank a cup of tea he had manage to dig out of the cupboards. She nursed the cup he'd offered her, absorbed in the stories of his childhood he was recounting for her.

He had many treasured memories, but the ones he seemed to value most were of his mother and the nights she would take him on patrol with her. She thought it strange that his memories would be that vivid at such a young age, but didn't question it. It was a gift he did not take for granted.

"What was her style?" She found herself interrupting, wanting to know more about the slayer his mother had been.

"You mean fighting?"

"Yea." She took a sip of her tea while he gave it some thought.

"I was pretty young," he told her pursing his lips, "but I remember thinking that she always seemed like a force of nature. No rhyme, no reason, no plan…just sheer power, sheer fury. She was amazing. Like you, actually. I thought at first that her style was like Buffy's, but I was wrong. You're style is far more elemental."

She blushed slightly, warmed by the compliment.

"You've watched me?"

"We've fought together a while now Faith." He told her softly. "I've always had your back."

"Watched my back you mean." She grimaced, hating the anger that she couldn't seem to keep from bubbling to the surface. "I'm a murderer remember?"

"I trust you Faith." He said simply. "That's not why I watched you."

She found herself surprised and not sure she could believe the comment. How could anybody who knew her past trust her? How could she trust him?

"You shouldn't." She told him shortly. "I don't trust you. When we fight together, I'm always watch'n."

"I know." He said, somewhat sadly. "I just wish I knew what you were watching for."

"For you to fail me." She replied, surprised she had the guts to answer him, to be truthful.

"Like everyone else?" He raised an eyebrow. She could only nod, lump in her throat. "I don't know how to convince you that I'm not that guy Faith…that I'm different. Maybe I can't. But I can promise you that I'm not going to give up trying. You know why I brought you here?"

"To show case your secret love for tacky shag carpets?" She was being flip now, trying to hide from the thudding in her heart, from the intensity of his gaze. He was so earnest looking, so disturbingly sincere. It made her want to believe him, believe that somebody in this world could be trusted. In that moment, perched on that peach flowered couch, he was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen.

"To show you who I am." He was telling her. He raised his hand and swept it around the room like one of those women on all those game shows showing off the prizes. "This is me. This is my beginning. But it's not all I am. I had the benefit of a loving home. My mother was taken early, but there were still people who loved me, people who taught me to trust. This house was the beginning, but the man I've become is something I've worked hard to be. I look at you Faith and I see someone who may not have had this beginning, but has become something great regardless."

"I've killed people." She said softly. "Murdered them."

"You've also helped save the world." He moved closer to her, and this time she didn't pull back. "I'm not saying it cancels itself out, but it's definitely a step in the right direction. You're going to be someone absolutely amazing when you learn to trust yourself. And I'll be there to see it. I swear to you."

"I want to believe you." She said, realizing that part of her already did. He smiled.

"So believe me." He put up a hand to stop the guarded expression that began to appear on her face. "Not completely, not right away. Let's start slow…at the beginning. Like this house was my beginning. Little things."

"Like what?"

"Like when we patrol together." He suggested. "Trust me to have your back. Trust me to trust you to do the right thing. Back to back, you and me."

"You're idea of starting small is me trusting you with my life?" She looked at him curiously.

"I trust you with mine," he reminded her, "You fight with so much passion, but less to live for. Right now I don't think your life means as much to you as it does to me. And I want to change that. Leave it in my hands until you have something to hold onto, to strive towards. Let me be your little house Faith. Start with the tacky shag carpets and maybe someday we'll have some walls and a roof to keep out the rain."

She stared at him for a long while, unable to decide how to answer him. She was awash in a sea of confusing and unfamiliar emotions, but she knew one thing. What he was offering was big. To take her here, to this place and to offer to share that, to give her a piece of the love and warmth she had never experienced meant a lot. She couldn't say no. This was too important to risk losing.

Impulsively, she leaned into him and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. It was all the answer he needed because he smiled at her when she pulled away, and she allowed him this time to see the effect it had on her.

"You wanna patrol then?" She asked, needed to get away from this mushy stuff for a little while and see some action.

"Long as you let me watch your back." He replied, obviously wanting to hear it form her verbally. She grinned.

"You've earned your stripes I guess." She said airily, but with a twinkle of new energy in her eyes. "Let's do it."

He followed her out the door, knowing what she had given him was no small thing and vowing not to let her down.


End file.
